There is an unwritten rule in most Bengali households. Sooner or later, football will find you. And when it does, someone older, louder and infinitely more opinionated than you will ask the question that has divided living rooms for generations: Brazil or Argentina? There are no neutral answers. It's almost hereditary. You inherit a football nation long before you understand what offside means.
In my family, Brazil had already won that battle. So when I was born in 2001, there wasn't really a choice to make. The yellow shirt was waiting for me before I could even walk. A year later, Brazil lifted their fifth World Cup in Yokohama. Unfortunately, one-year-old me wasn't particularly interested. I was probably more occupied with learning how to stand upright than watching Ronaldo Nazario bulldoze Germany in a World Cup final. Looking back now, it feels like a terrible piece of timing. Because here I am, 25 years later, still waiting.
That 2002 triumph remains the last time Brazil conquered the world. Somehow, I was born into the most successful football nation on the planet and have grown into adulthood without ever seeing the Selecao lift another World Cup. Yet strangely, that isn't the first thing that comes to mind when I think about supporting Brazil. Neymar is.
My Brazil Was Neymar
I belong to a generation that heard stories about Ronaldinho rather than lived them. Ronaldo Nazario's genius arrived through grainy YouTube compilations, old DVDs and those endless conversations with older cousins that always ended the same way: "You should've seen him in his prime." Rivaldo, Cafu and Roberto Carlos felt like characters from football folklore. We knew what they had done, but we never felt it in real time.
My Brazil was Neymar. He became my introduction to what everyone kept calling Joga Bonito. Not because Brazil always won, or because every tournament ended with confetti in yellow and green, but because Neymar played football like someone hopelessly in love with the ball. There was a softness to every touch that made you lean forward in your seat. Every dribble carried the promise that something ridiculous might happen next. A roulette, an elastico, a rainbow flick or a no-look pass - not because it was necessary, but because football, in Neymar's world, was supposed to be fun.
That was the Brazil I inherited. Not the one measured only by trophies. The one measured by joy. Even Zlatan Ibrahimovic, a man who rarely hands out compliments, perhaps summed up Neymar better than anyone else. He once said people would always feel Neymar could have achieved more because everyone expected him to win the Ballon d'Or. Yet in the very next breath, Zlatan admitted that Neymar would always be remembered as a great footballer because his talent was simply "crazy". That contradiction has followed Neymar throughout his career. The world remembers what he didn't win. Those of us who grew up watching him remember what he made us feel.
The Prince Who Never Wore the Crown
For most footballers, winning the Champions League, becoming your country's all-time leading goalscorer and collecting league titles across Europe would define a legendary career. For a Brazilian No. 10, apparently it isn't enough. The World Cup became both Neymar's greatest dream and his greatest burden. Looking back now, it almost feels as though fate kept finding new ways to interrupt his story.
In 2014, everything seemed to be building towards the perfect script. Brazil were hosting the World Cup, Neymar had already scored four goals and the country had placed its hopes squarely on the shoulders of a 22-year-old carrying the weight of an entire football nation. Then came Juan Camilo Zuniga's knee. A fractured vertebra ended Neymar's tournament in an instant. Days later, Brazil suffered the unimaginable 7-1 defeat to Germany, and football was left wondering one of its biggest "what ifs". Would that semi-final have unfolded differently if Neymar had been on the pitch? Nobody will ever know.
Four years later, another injury disrupted his preparations before Russia. He fought his way back from a metatarsal fracture, but never quite looked like the Neymar who had dazzled the world before. Then came Qatar. For me, his goal against Croatia remains one of the finest goals I've ever seen a Brazilian score at a World Cup. Deep into extra time, he danced through defenders, rounded the goalkeeper and finished with the composure of a man who thought destiny had finally smiled on him. For a few minutes, it felt like this was going to be the Neymar World Cup. Then Croatia equalised. Brazil lost on penalties. And somehow, even one of the greatest goals of his career became little more than a heartbreaking footnote. If football can be unfair, it was relentlessly so with Neymar.
The End of Our Brazil
Growing up, Brazil always felt different. They weren't just another football team. They were the team that smiled while playing. The team that danced after scoring. The team whose football felt more like street art than organised sport. For my generation, Neymar carried that identity almost single-handedly. He wasn't perfect. He was criticised for diving, questioned for his decisions, mocked for injuries that were often beyond his control and endlessly compared with Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo. Every World Cup ended with another "what if", another conversation about what could have been, another reminder that he never got to lift the one trophy every Brazilian dreams about.
Yet somehow, none of those things are what I'll remember first. I'll remember defenders backing away, not because they were scared of getting beaten, but because they were scared of getting embarrassed in front of 50,000 fans. I'll remember Olympic gold at the Maracana, the tears that followed and a nation finally breathing again after years of heartbreak. And now, I'll remember New Jersey. The MetLife stadium where an 18-year-old Neymar announced himself to the world. The stadium where a 34-year-old Neymar said goodbye to it.
As a Bengali kid, I inherited Brazil before I even knew what football was. Like countless others, I kept waiting for the day the Selecao would finally win that elusive sixth star. It never came. Instead, every four years became another lesson in hope, heartbreak and telling myself, maybe next time. There won't be a next time with Neymar. Maybe history will remember him as the prince who never became king. But for those of us who watched him, he was the king of our hearts.
Neymar's journey began in Mogi das Cruzes, a city in São Paulo state. From the futsal courts to the beaches of Santos, his talent was evident early. He joined Santos FC's youth system and made his professional debut at 17. By 2011, he had won the Copa Libertadores, scoring in the final. He moved to Barcelona in 2013, where he formed the MSN trio with Messi and Suárez, winning the treble in 2015. His transfer to PSG for €222 million in 2017 set a world record, but injuries plagued his time in Paris. Nevertheless, he won multiple Ligue 1 titles and led PSG to the 2020 Champions League final. His return to Santos in early 2025 was brief before his final match for Brazil in March 2025.
Beyond the numbers, Neymar's legacy is about emotion. He brought flair back to football when the game was becoming increasingly robotic. He danced, he celebrated, he cried. He was unapologetically Brazilian. In an era of analytics and structure, he played with the freedom of a street footballer. His no-look passes, his daring nutmegs, his impossible finishes – all of it was a reminder that football is, at its core, a game of joy.
He retires as Brazil's all-time leading scorer with 79 goals in 128 appearances. He won the 2013 Confederations Cup and the 2016 Olympic gold. He has a Copa América winner's medal from 2019, though he missed that tournament due to injury. He also won the 2021 Copa América, again missing through injury. His club honours include multiple league titles and a Champions League. Yet the World Cup eluded him. That missing piece will define his career for some, but for those who lived through his magic, his influence goes far beyond silverware.
In the end, Neymar taught a generation what Joga Bonito looked like. He was the last of a dying breed – a player who entertained first and won second. As football evolves, we may never see another like him. Thank you, Neymar.
Source: MSN News